Damn, I recarneted As A Judge in Fantasy World

Even if they were people he didn't like, Abel couldn't just turn away. Since this was a place arranged by Princess Justia, appropriate courtesy was necessary.

He wrote a very polite letter to Alice Saltrey—a polite refusal to meet. Leaving the Duchy of Crawford was faster than anticipated and different from his past experiences.

"Wow! How could you leave me in the pit of evil?" Cordell McNeil exclaimed indignantly.

If they left things as they were, it seemed like Cordell would keep complaining the whole way back. Abel tried to comfort him, but his words were a bit harsh.

"A pit of evil? Is that what Lady Alice is like? Haha! How rude of you to say that about the Marquis of Saltrey."

"No, I said it because there's no other way to describe it. It's acceptable to curse the king behind his back."

"Oh, so you've seen His Majesty the Emperor's scar?"

"Huh? When did I ever do that? I mean, that's just how things are."

As expected, criticism of the emperor struck a nerve with people in the empire. Many nobles had faced jail time for careless remarks. Cordell McNeil was now crammed into a room, looking sullen.

"Just joking. By the way, how did you get out of there?"

"I was trying my hardest to please her, then said I was going to greet Princess Justia and slipped away."

It seemed escaping hadn't been as difficult as expected. Just being held there must have been enough to leave a bitter taste. It seemed Alice Saltrey wasn't to Cordell's liking either.

"Anyway, I hope everything turns out okay," Abel said, sinking into the passenger seat cushion. Now that the major issues had been resolved, all that was left was to return and rest. After a business trip like this, he deserved a few days off.

As he enjoyed the journey with a light heart, Derek approached him with a troubled expression.

"Your Majesty! It must have rained last night; because of that, all the beef jerky has gone bad."

"Really? Do we have any biscuits?"

"Likewise, since they got wet, they became unusable too."

"I wrapped it in a waterproof sheet, so how did it turn out like this?"

"It seems a rat got into it."

Derek's words weren't a metaphor for a spy. A rat really had made its way into the carriage. There was a hole in the bottom of the sack holding the food, with gnaw marks around the edges. It looked like the rat had come in through there. Seeing those clear teeth marks was somehow annoying.

"We'll just have to throw out what's been damaged and continue. We can restock our food at the next town we stop in."

"My apologies. I should have checked more often..."

"It's fine. It wasn't Mr. Derek's responsibility, after all."

Normally, Abel left the party's food in the cargo compartment of his carriage, as it was sturdy and waterproof, perfect for storing dried goods. But with a rat chewing holes, that changed everything. If moisture from rain or morning dew got in, the food would spoil in no time.

"There's a village ahead, Your Majesty!" one of the attendants called.

Ahead, a small, fenced-in settlement appeared. A quick glance at the map confirmed it was the village of Ortiz in the County of Caldwell. A river and forest framed the landscape, and fenced ranches dotted the area, creating a peaceful, pastoral atmosphere. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the scene.

"The view here is stunning."

"Oh! You should build a house here and live out your days fishing or something," Derek said, looking at the river with dreamy eyes, as if yearning for a peaceful old age.

'Every mercenary's dream,' Abel thought.

Everyone risked their lives to earn money, after all, so they could eventually live happily. Abel took in the townscape, quietly cheering on Derek's dream.

From a place like this, it should be easy to secure enough food to last the rest of the journey. But things didn't go as planned.

When Abel asked a farmer if he could buy some provisions, the man answered apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing to sell."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Huh? Even if it's the spring famine, there should be at least something."

"It's the truth. The whole village is starving."

Spring was a season of renewal, but it often left humans short on food. Wheat wasn't usually harvested until June, and last year's stock had run out before then. Yet villages typically kept emergency supplies for times like these. They could sell it to Abel and later buy more with the money.

But even with large farms, the village was completely out of food.

"You mean you've used up all the emergency supplies?"

"Yes, that's right."

"But it's still a long way to June. Why let things get this bad?"

"We had no choice. They've been collecting taxes for all sorts of strange reasons. If you don't want to die, you have no choice but to give it to them."

"What did you say?"

"This time, they even counted the children who passed away years ago and demanded tax, saying their deaths weren't reported."

Abel was shocked. He was now witnessing firsthand the kind of predatory taxation he'd only read about. He glanced back at his group in bewilderment. How could they demand taxes on unregistered deaths?

Derek stepped forward, whispering to Abel.

"Actually, things like this are common in local fiefdoms. They take everything they can, then loan it back at high interest."

"And if people can't pay it back?"

"They lose their children, their homes, their land."

"How outrageous."

Though the empire was relatively well-regulated, seeing such extortion was rare. Even the Marquis of Yates, infamous for embezzling from his estates, only taxed 60% of his people's earnings. Stripping the people bare would only lead to long-term ruin. But Caldwell's count seemed to ignore such logic entirely, even taking essentials from the villagers.

'You've targeted Ortiz specifically, haven't you? That's why the demands were so extreme.'

The dark, grim reality of this fantasy world hit Abel in full force. So, what could he do about it?

They could move on, find food elsewhere, and avoid further delays. A small detour wouldn't disrupt their plans much.

But if they left, the people of Ortiz would continue to suffer.

'Of course, I can't save everyone,' Abel thought. Still, shouldn't he at least try to restore a bit of normalcy where he could?

Wasn't that what the system wanted, to have a positive impact on society?

With a determined look, Abel stepped into the carriage.

"Let's go to Caldwell Castle."

Abel sat quietly in the carriage, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on him as they neared Caldwell Castle. This journey was meant to be a return to rest, a brief reprieve after handling matters of state. Yet, seeing the dire conditions of Ortiz, he couldn't shake the unease simmering within. The injustices imposed on the villagers—a shadow of tyranny cloaked under nobility—left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As the carriage trundled along the worn dirt road, Derek observed Abel's hardened expression, it seems that things will not go peacefully as he thought it would.